But always, upon retiring to her tent each night after yet another long
'discussion' with her Emperor, Si'Wren was left feeling wrung dry.
Then, surrounded by pitch darkness and the strange distant cries of
unseen night creatures both great and small, she would pray fervently
to Him in private, and finally slip away into sleep wondering yet again
what sort of a God could have produced such a far-reaching creation in
which man and beast alike so readily displayed such unbridled savagery
and madness.
* * *
One night, as they sat encamped on a broad hilltop clearing, Si'Wren
watched the thickening night mists roll over the land, swathing the
jungles of the hills and valleys in a gauzy white shroud, and she
considered at length what the Invisible God would have wanted her to
communicate to her Emperor, if she could but guess rightly even one
time what that might be.
But she was left, as before, with a wilderness of the soul like unto
that surrounding them, in which the elusive refuge of Divine Truth
seemed as remote as the tale of the Prophet Noah's mythical ark.
They were resting and warming themselves at fireside, having just
finished the evening repast. She had extra clay tablets stacked beside
her, with one in her lap, having just finished the dictations of
Borla's notes about the day's journey into this strange land.
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